THE BOY WHO CLIMBED. | PK

[Wonderland_Boy 1081]

Far from the lands he call home, a man came to a halt, his weary gaze lifting to meet the ancient giant before him .It’s leaves,, landing gently upon the mirrored surface of the lake surrounding it.
 

He stepped forward, slowly, as if the weight of his grief threatened to pull him into the earth. Strapped to his back, a guitar worn, weathered, like him. His eyes were hollow, glassy, seeing through the world as though nothing around him were truly there.
 

Stopping at the water’s edge, he knelt. With quiet reverence, he removed his shoes, letting bare feet meet the cold kiss of the lake. It welcomed him not as a man, but as a memory.
 

From his bag, he pulled the guitar. His fingers hovered above the strings, trembling. For a moment, they did not move. Perhaps this was the last time he would ever see his brother. Or perhaps, just once more, he might see him again if only in memory.
 

And then, a melody broke the silence soft, cracked, full of longing. His fingers found the chords, and his voice followed, low and raw, like an old wound reopening:

.・゜✧﹒ 𝜗𝜚 ﹒✧゜・．
 

Eu lembro de nós, mesmo longe assim
Como uma sombra que ficou no jardim
E eu nunca o soltei, mesmo quando fugiu
Sempre guardei seu nome no vazio
 

Se tudo é tempo, então por que doeu?
Você se foi, mas parte ainda é meu
Mesmo sem gestos, sem querer voltar
Era você que eu não pude largar
 

E agora o tempo… também te levou
O seu amor é tudo que ficou
Você tentou mas o seu fim chegou
 

Tantas memórias, é duro entender
Mas eu e você histórias vamos ter
Eu e você histórias vamos ter…
 

He stepped further into the lake, the water rising up his legs, to his waist, to his chest  the melody never faltering, never breaking, until the final words trembled from his lips:
 

Eu e você histórias vamos ter…
 

And then he let go of the guitar, of the breath in his lungs, of the world above slipping beneath the surface, into the cold, alas, he’d have a final glimpse of Miguel.

[LiliumDell 112]

Ulisses simply weeps in his fathers shoulder as he tells him the sad news about his dear uncle, sobbing his lungs off. 

He grasps the last letter he had recieved from Miguel, one saying that he would come visit him and his father as many times as he possibly could. And the small child remembers every word in that letter. 

"Tio promised he would visit us...!" 

The child mutters between sobs, not knowing how to process his grief yet.